


Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019

by axzanier



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Altiverse, Backrubs, Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, Gen, Massage, Post-Mission, post mission pain, stupid move, work injury, wump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-10 16:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20530790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axzanier/pseuds/axzanier
Summary: Bucky Barnes Bingo #1square: (backrubs/massages)





	1. This is Going to Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I've had any number versions of this scene stuck in my head for AGES. Yes, it's technically part of my Only Hero Left altiverse, but can definitely be read as a stand-alone.

_ This is Going to Hurt _

  
  


"What happened to you?" I asked surprised to see James standing outside my suite.

He still wore the uniform, dirt-smudged and torn in a couple of spots, a cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding but the smear of nearly dried blood remained. Still, overall he seemed relatively healthy so the mission couldn't have gone as badly as his dour appearance suggested.

"Can I use your shower? The pressure is better."

I could hear the reluctance in his voice to even ask. I stepped aside to let him in. "Sure." We'd been on again and off again for a while now, with the current mode being off. He did his best to hide the limp as he moved past me headed for my bedroom and the attached bathroom. I shut my door and followed along. "Need help getting out of anything."

He stopped, glanced over his shoulder at me as if trying to suss out if I had an ulterior motive, judged me worthy I supposed and gave a curt nod.

I joined him in the bathroom making note of the difficulty he seemed to have with his left arm. Without saying a word I assisted the removal of first his jacket and then the body armor underneath. Both damaged with obvious bullet holes, but also both having done their job to protect him. He'd have bruises for a few days depending on the caliber and how close the shooter had been and then nothing, no physical reminder of what had happened.

I worried, but I wouldn't ask. He would tell or not in his own time.

Lifting the snug-fitting shirt up and off caused him to grunt and flinch away from me.

I set a hand on his right shoulder to steady him. "Let me."

He didn't say a word, but also didn't fight as I carefully got the shirt off him. "Left arm?"

"I'm fine," he snarled, taking the shirt from me, balling it up and tossing it towards the hamper.

I took that as my cue to leave him be for now. I had learned not to be upset by his occasionally mercurial attitude, especially towards me. It had taken time, but I understood his need to push me away. I simply didn't agree with it.

So I returned to the living room, settled back into the cushions of my sofa and opened the laptop in hopes of finding the bad line of code that had snuck in. I lost myself in the work for an unknown amount of time. The sound of the shower shutting off brought me back to awareness. The swearing, in Russian no less, got my attention.

"James?" I called out cautiously. "You all right?"

He swore, quite creatively in Romanian this time and stepped out to where I could see him with a towel wrapped firmly about his waist. His left shoulder drooped ominously. I set my laptop aside and went to him. "If I didn't know it wasn't possible I'd swear you managed to dislocate your shoulder."

He grunted. "It's my back."

"Okay. Would you like some help?" I didn't really expect him to say yes.

"What would you suggest?" he sounded resigned to the situation, which I didn't much care for as I hadn't been the one to maneuver him into his current plight. He'd shown up on  _ my _ doorstep, not the other way around.

I hit my stash of the boys' clothes I'd somehow collected and handed him a pair of sweats that should fit him no problem. I considered tossing them to him but didn't need him in any more pain than necessary. "Put these on and meet me in the living room. Okay?"

He nodded, the quizzical look in his eyes not stopping him from doing as I had requested. As soon as the bathroom door closed I gathered up the items I needed and trotted them back to the living area which I proceeded to rearrange. Two chairs from the dining table and a couple of cushions. 

"Rinn."

He wore the sweats and held a shirt he'd scrounged from the same drawer. "Leave the shirt and sit please."

He twisted the tee in his hands. "Why?" his voice little more than a rumble proving his continued reluctance to be anywhere near me.

"Because it'll be challenging to give you a massage with it on."

"Oh." His eyes wandered over the set up I'd created before glancing back at the bed behind him. "Shouldn't I be lying down or something?"

I gave him a smile. "Bed's too soft. Not enough leverage."

"Oh. That makes sense." He walked towards me, tossing the shirt on the couch. "Where do you want me?"

I raised an eyebrow but simply gestured to the one chair. "Backwards, please, cushion for your chest."

"I won't need it."

"Humour me." I waited until he shifted forward, sitting and doing as I had asked. I grabbed the other chair and sat myself down behind him. "I know you're tough but let me know if I hurt you, okay."

He managed a derisive snort that I took as agreement. No, I did not have the same level of strength as him, however, he'd already admitted to being in pain so the risk of causing more remained a possible one. I brushed the hair off his right shoulder, grabbed the moisturizer lightly scented with vanilla and spread a generous amount on my palms.

I began along the side of his neck, getting a feel of the musculature and bone structure and paying attention to his reactions. He, of course, tensed initially so I dug in a bit harder until I hit the first of the knots buried in the tissue under my fingers.

A sigh escaped from him, his head tipping down for a long moment as the discomfort he'd been pretending to ignore eased. I kept going. Hitting everything from the spine over, shifting vertebra that could be back into alignment. I could feel where the injury had occurred. The muscles on the right refusing to loosen under my ministrations. I didn't force it and simply moved on.

I made certain to cover everywhere else from the lats up. The angle not right to get his lower back effectively.

My hands hadn't quite cramped, but I definitely needed a break before moving to his other side. "Drink?" I suggested, grabbing a towel to wipe off the excess moisturizer.

He straightened, winced, then turned to look at me.

"No, I'm not done." I wiggled my fingers. "This is not my day job."

He snorted. "Sure. Water's fine."

I patted him on the shoulder as I stood and went to my kitchen. I grabbed and opened a couple bottles of water trying to ignore the way he watched me with that heavy gaze. His head may have been tipped down, his long hair hid his face for the most part. But his eyes followed me. I didn't mind, in fact, I wished he'd look at me like that more often. I may have been stuck as his anchor, but he hadn't been overly thrilled by that fact since our night together during that conference we’d attended.

I had been mad for a long while after but had mostly gotten over it. He needed my friendship far more than sex. It had always been my thing when it came to my relationship with superheroes. I supported them, helped, them, fixed them when they broke physically or emotionally.

Today looked to be a bit of both even if the emotional support remained silent. The fact he had come to me and agreed to let me help a huge step for him.

I would do nothing to push him away.

When I handed him the bottle he lifted his head long enough to meet my eyes for a long second then lowered them to drink. I remained standing, flexing my hands to keep them loose for the work to come. Supersoldiers had super muscles which took serious strength to work. His right side had been tight as a drum even without the knots, his left side would be worse. I took a few minutes to let the strain in my hands and forearms release so that when I started up again I’d have at least a few minutes at full strength.

I paced and sipped at my water while he sat there stoically and drank mechanically. he needed the hydration but he been trained to fill said needs only out of necessity. No enjoyment to the act of easing thirst, only survival. When he finished I took the bottle from him and set it on the end table his eyes on me the entire time.

"Ready for round two?"

He nodded.

I managed a wan smile at the dour expression, then settled behind him and grabbed the bottle to put a generous amount on my hands. Brushing his hair to the right this time I once again began at his neck. The tightness impressive to say the least, but similar to that on the opposite side. I made certain everything felt loose and relaxed before moving lower.

I cautiously probed down along his spine until I found the kink that had to be the cause of his discomfort. I continued past it without working it just yet, then made my way back up. This time I moved across his shoulder to where flesh met metal. I knew the tissue on the edge could be overly sensitive so I took all due care to not make this more painful than necessary. Still, once I began to dig my fingers in he couldn't stop himself from reacting. He kept still but the growls emanating from his chest and throat signaled his increasing displeasure.

I worked outward from where the connection between real and man-made, noting the difference in the structure underneath and endeavoring to adapt my pressure accordingly. The shoulder couldn't be dislocated, not in the traditional sense anyway, but I could feel that something had shifted internally.

"What happened?"

He grunted. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to have to remove your arm to fix this. If I know the how I may be able to make the adjustment easier," I explained, my fingers trailing lightly across his skin in an effort to keep him calm. If he got angry it would take that much longer to get him to relax, which meant longer until I got him and his thrown back sorted out.

He sat up straighter for an instant, regretted it instantly as his left shoulder refused to cooperate, snarled under his breath then sagged. "I stopped a truck."

I couldn't even feign surprise. "Can I assume it wasn't a small truck?"

He managed a dark chuckle. "That would be a safe assumption."

"Was this a grab or a shoulder shove?" I mean I could see him facing down a speeding semi, shoulder dug in like a linebacker taking out an opponent, but while strong he wasn't an immovable object, he'd have gone flying in that scenario.

"Armoured transport. Heavy. Size of a box truck. Grabbed a solid bit and forced it into a barrier."

Ah, that made sense. "So you essentially turned it. Can you show me your arm position... with your right?"

He twisted to look at me in confusion but did so. I had him hold position while I ran my hands across his back and shoulder in an effort to ascertain how they should feel.

When I released his arm he curled it around the back of the chair. "You get what you need, doll?"

"I did." I set a hand on his left shoulder. "This is going to hurt."

He grunted. "It already hurts."

I snorted. "Fair enough."

I added a couple extra pumps of moisturizer to my hands and ran my fingers with just enough pressure to feel the position of his vertebrae until hitting the first one that had been affected by his brash move. In total three were decidedly out of alignment. I would need to take all due care to not do more damage.

I moved to where flesh met metal and worked my way inward, trying to loosen the muscles prior to shifting the bones. He groaned, head snapping up as I really dug into the knot.

I kept going working my way out and over the tightness resisting my efforts to get it to release.

I stood to change the angle of my attack, pressing hard enough to make the chair James sat in creak and him to swear.

"Fuck."

I held my position. "Too much?"

"No. Keep going."

Given I hadn't intended to stop I went right back to work. It took a fair ten minutes of effort before the knot loosened though not as much as I would have preferred. I shifted over to his spine and pressed the heel of my right hand against the middle of the three out of place bones and leaned.

He growled but otherwise didn't move. Neither did the bone under my hand. So, with my left hand, I grasped his biceps and lifted his arm and slowly began to shift it in an effort to get it to sit in a normal position while still maintaining pressure on his spine.

James let out this pitiful sound that told me exactly how much pain I was causing him, but I didn't stop. If I didn't get this done soon his body would try to and I doubted that would be any less painful. It definitely wouldn't be quicker.

I got his shoulder about halfway up when everything shifted under my hand.

James yelped and I eased up on his back. "Hold your shoulder here, okay?"

He mumbled an affirmative.

I ran my fingers over his spine, the alignment greatly improved, but still off. This time I pressed the flat of my hand over the spot. "Can you sit up straight?"

His answer to do so, if slowly. Bones shifted, but not enough.

"Okay, nice and easy roll your shoulders and then arch back, please."

His shoulders slowly came up and back, pops from his neck loud in the silence between us. Then he arched.

The troublemakers and a half dozen others shifted, falling back into their proper places with those distinctive crackles and snaps. The tightness next to my hand also released and James, well James moaned in what sounded like unadulterated pleasure, a sound I'd heard during a far more intimate moment, but was in fact relief.

When he tried to collapse forward I stopped him. "Wait."

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "What now?"

"Let's check the rotation in your shoulder first."

"Fine."

I walked his arm through its paces. Checking not just his spine and muscles, but the mechanical parts under the skin. I could feel a hitch when the arm fell into the position he had grabbed the truck in. "You might have a tear in here. I would recommend minimal use of your arm for a few days until it heals."

He lowered his arm and shifted about to look at me. "Sure. Not the first time it has happened." He got to his feet causing me to move back to make room. He stepped away, grabbed the shirt he'd tossed on the couch and pulled it on, only wincing a tiny bit as he did so. He rolled both shoulders and stood up straight to face me. "I thought you were nuts starting on my right side, but you were figuring out how things  _ should _ be before working on the left."

I smiled slightly. "I'm not entirely clueless."

"That is not something anyone would accuse you of." Then he yawned hugely, his entire body softening visibly afterward.

"Go get some sleep," I suggested waving at my bedroom.

"Laurin, I appreciate what you've done but..." He looked guilty for an instant. "I'll head back to my rooms."

"James, you misunderstand. You will have that bed to yourself." I grabbed the hand towel I'd draped over the back of my chair and did my best to remove the remaining cream from my skin. Right now anything I attempted to pick up would slip out of my fingers. Once reasonably certain I could hold on to it I picked up my laptop. "I have a line of buggy code to find."

His head tipped down, shoulders dropping slightly though in relief or exhaustion I couldn't tell. Hell, probably relief that I'd chosen to not insist on sharing my bed with him. "Rinn--"

"Eat. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." I turned away and headed to my door.

As I opened it I heard him softly say, "Thank you."

I didn't respond knowing he hadn't really intended me to hear it. I simply went through the door, closing it behind me.

I'd done my job. Put the hero back together. I'd always been good at that. Ignoring my own feelings in favor of others. I paused at the top of the stairs wishing I knew how to be just a bit more selfish.

Then it passed.

I trotted down the stairs double time.

I had work to do.

  
  
  
  


_ finis _


	2. This is Gospel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes Bingo #2 (soulmarks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently started a second job and my work hours have been insane so, while I've had this plotted out for ages, I haven't really had the time or energy to write it down. Plus, I can no longer write at home for some reason. I wrote the majority of this at the dealership while my car received some TLC.
> 
> Hopefully, the next one won't take nearly as long.
> 
> As an aside, while I've read a few different soulmark stories I've never considered writing my own until now. I actually did some serious worldbuilding for this mostly to get it out of my head.
> 
> The title comes from the song by the same name by Panic! at the Disco.

**This is Gospel**

  
  


She stood just a few feet away. 

I assessed my options.

They wanted this one up close and personal. Hands-on, so to speak. She had bundled up for the weather; heavy coat, hat, gloves, and a scarf. I could use that. Twist it up tight against her neck and wait the few minutes it would take to make certain she had breathed her last.

The crowd fairly sparse this time of day. Just enough that my presence went unnoticed as I seemingly browsed the wares much as my target. I had slowly made my way closer, waiting on the opportune moment to grab her and pull her down a side alley and complete the mission.

She turned, eyes skipping right past me without lingering on or even really noticing me, as it should be. I continued my aimless movement, chatting with the stall owners about their wares, which, of course, I had no real interest in. Even if I made a purchase, it would be taken from me the moment I returned. 

I had learned that lesson quite some time ago.

I manoeuvered to within a few feet of her, a nearby and more importantly empty alleyway, a near-perfect place to complete my task with no witnesses and yet leaving the body where it will most assuredly be found.

And it must be found.

I shifted towards her, fully intending to finish this swiftly so that I could return and fall back into that mostly dreamless sleep where I existed between missions. She turned at some sound from a nearby stall to reveal a child, a mere babe of only a few months old, in her arms all bundled up against the cold air. Rosy cheeks and eyes visible and not much else with the abundance of clothes it... no,  _ she _ wore.

The child's eyes met mine and she wailed as if struck by an unseen force.

Part of me wanted to echo that cry with one of my own as an unexpected burning sensation pulsed up my arm and into my chest. I froze, trying to comprehend the swirling emotions that bubbled up from somewhere within me. 

The unbearable need to go to the child, to protect her and care for her tore through me for a long instant, some deeply buried part of my self responding to this infant and understanding the importance of this moment.

I banished it away, leaving little more than a lingering ache in my left wrist, which I would duly report upon my return to make certain the arm had not suffered from some kind of malfunction.

The mother reacted to the child's cries, attempting to comfort the child who seemed inconsolable, her deep blue eyes focused upon me, her arms waving, face reddening as tears rolled down her chubby cheeks.

_ Now _ . Now, while the mother remained distracted. I could easily pull them away as they had drawn minimal attention to themselves. The others lingering about having glanced in their direction, then away upon realizing that the trouble nothing more than an unhappy baby.

Something inside me refused to move. Absolutely refused to budge in their direction. Instead, I walked away. Deciding to bide my time. This would not be the only opportunity to fulfill the orders I'd been given.

~^~

"You remember why we're here, right?"

I turned and shot a deadly look at my partner, though why in the name of all that is holy I'd been paired with a man that hated me when we'd first met beyond my understanding. Fury seemed to think our mutual connection to the former Captain America would be enough to bridge the gap and maybe keep us from killing one another.

"Wilson, if you go over the mission briefing one more time I'm going to shove you through the nearest wall." I kept a bland look on my face so as to not scare the ords around us. 

He huffed out an irritated breath. "Not my fault to weren't paying attention during the meeting."

I sighed. "I paid attention as much as I needed to." I didn't have any interest in explaining that thanks to my Hydra handlers I'd learn to listen and understand my orders on the first repetition. Failure to do so had led to some rather unpleasant memories that I still had nightmares about now and again.

And it wasn't as if this were a complicated job. Just babysitting an Ambassador's daughter as she mingled with the crowd at this highbrow party. There had been rumors of an attack on the family so we'd been tasked with making certain any such attempt failed.

Wilson frowned but let it go for now. He led the way through the crowd heading for our target who stood off to one side a less than subtle group of bodyguards about her. 

She looked bored and irritated, clearly wanting to interact with the people about her, but not being permitted to thanks to the hired muscle. 

As we approached two of the goons shifted to block our path.

"Oh for heaven's sake move, they're my escorts."

The pair shot us a warning glare then did as she asked. 

"Apologies, they are a touch too overprotective. I will get nothing accomplished at this rate." She stepped forward, hand out to greet us.

Wilson shook it and introduced us. "Sam Wilson and James Barnes at your service, ma'am."

She turned to me, hand held out, eyes a deep blue that bordered on indigo meeting mine and freezing me in place.

My left wrist flared into agony, it echoed up into my chest then my brain. The sudden need to hold her and protect her nearly overwhelmed me, but I remained still, trying to process what the hell had happened. Memories assailed me, the same eyes but in the face of an infant, the woman holding her my target.

I snapped back to reality, the young lady before me wearing a stunned expression, her hand still awaiting my grip.

It had been thirty fucking years and only now did I understand what had occurred on that day. Then again I hadn't exactly been in my right mind at the time. It also explained the odd longing I'd been experiencing ever since being freed from Hydra's hold.

I didn't take her hand. In fact, I took a step back and did the only thing possible.

I lied.

"Wilson, they need me on the perimeter." I turned my back and walked away, refusing to look back to see the sure to be wounded expression on her face. I tapped my comms. "Barton, I need you to take over for me."

I could practically hear him ponder an appropriate response to that. " _ Uh, sure _ ."

Even if he'd said no I would not have returned to the ballroom.

~^~

Eventually, Wilson managed to get away and hunt me down. I'd taken over Barton's perch watching the proceedings from afar. While our skill sets were far from identical, we both were quite skilled from a distance, even if he did prefer a bow to a sniper rifle.

"What the hell was that all about?"

He sounded far more disappointed than angry.

I debated lying again, just letting the reality pass and be buried to never be spoken of, but something in me had come to trust the man before me and the need explain won out over the just as prominent need to keep it locked inside. 

"My soulmark... it..." I stumbled to a halt, unable to articulate exactly what had happened.

Thankfully, he understood.

His brows bounced upwards and a grin lit up his face. "With her? The Ambassador's daughter?"

I nodded both thankful I didn't need to say it aloud and annoyed that he seemed so gleeful about it.

"Well, let's see what you got. Be funny if it's a love match. I'm sure her father will be thrilled."

I growled, "I can't."

That stopped his enthusiasm cold. "What? Why not?"

I mean I got it. Finding your soulmate in any form generally a huge cause for celebration and here I was shitting all over my moment. "Becuase my mark was on my left wrist," I explained and waited for the realization of my words to sink in.

"Oh. Then how do you know?"

I closed my eyes for a long moment, permitting the memory of the experience to wash over me. "Trust me, I know."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He’d obviously never met his pair else he wouldn't have asked. "It's not just about the mark changing color. That's what they say, anyway."

" _ They _ are correct," I told him, finding it hard now that I'd permitted myself to admit the truth, to shove the needs, the wants that came with meeting your soulmate into some dark corner where I could once again ignore them.

"Well, c'mon, let's get you two introduced."

Poor man, thinking that could ever be possible. I kept my response simple and to the point. "No."

He'd already taken two steps before my response stopped him cold. "Are you nuts, man? She's your pair, your mate, you need to get down there and--"

"No, I need to do my job." I waved at the people far below us, the mezzanine giving me a perfect view of the crowd below, including the woman I was supposed to be with, who stood next to Barton, laughing at something he'd just whispered into her ear. Had to admit the man could turn on the charm when needed.

"Barnes, that's not how a mark works. You can't fight it once you've... You didn't shake her hand did you?"

I shook my head, thankful I hadn’t as touch sealed the mark. "And I don't plan to. I can't be with her, Sam. Not now, not ever."

He frowned. "If this is some you don't feel you deserve this trip--"

I refused to admit aloud that might be part of it and just dove in headfirst with the truth. "This is not the first time I've met her."

He blinked. "Okay, just explain it."

"Met isn't exactly the right word, more saw her. She's was about three months old and being held by her mother."

I saw the wheels turning in Wilson's head as he put the pieces together. He didn't take long to figure it out. "Thirty years ago her mother died suddenly."

"Yeah. I had my orders." That should be more than enough for him to complete the puzzle.

"No. It was an aneurysm or something."

"They buried the truth for obvious reasons. My handlers still achieved their goal." I shrugged. I had killed a lot of people as The Winter Soldier, no reason to deny it now. "My mark woke up the first time I saw her. I thought it might have been the target but when I... completed the job there was no secondary response so I assumed it had been a fluke. Then they wiped my mind and I forgot."

"Until today."

"Until today," I agreed.

"So why not go meet her. Acknowledge the pairing?"

"Sam, I can't do that to her. I killed her mother and the moment she finds out she will hate me. She'd be stuck forever with the man who destroyed her family. I know I've done horrible things in my life, but I won't do this."

"Barnes you don't know that will happen."

"It's how I would feel." Being torn between two distinct and opposite emotions would ultimately destroy her, never mind us. "Better to walk away now."

He snorted in derision. "You're going to ignore a mark? That's insane. And could very well drive you to that state."

"I have for thirty years, I think I can manage sixty or so more." Though I now understood that underlying feeling of loss I'd been feeling for the last three decades. I'd met my other half and been unable to complete the pairing. It also explained my disinterest in other women. Not that I hadn't spent time in the company of willing females, I just hadn't been able to do more than enjoy the moment, no matter how much they seemed to want to be with me on a more permanent basis. I'd already met my perfect match, no one else would ever be able to compete or fill the hole in my soul.

Wilson sucked in a gasp of air when he realized exactly what I meant. That, yes, I would indeed wait until she had died and just hope to anyone or thing listening that I'd never pair again. "What about her? Do you think she wants to suffer while you  _ save _ her?"

I winced internally as he did have a point. Still, suffering from an incomplete mark would still be better than hating the person some twist in human genetics deemed you must spend your life caring about and needing. "She's survived worse."

When Wilson looked to want to argue the point some more I said, "I'm going to check the perimeter, you should go rescue her from Barton."

And with that, much like after dragging one deucedly wet and half-drowned Steve Rogers from the Potomac, I simply walked away. 

I never looked back then and I wouldn't now.

  
  


_ finis _


End file.
